SpideyDevil

Domestic Debrief

Lucky for him, the black out only grasped the devil for a moment, and he was groaning back into consciousness only a minute or two after going out. Like a good boxer.
"Christ... I think I would prefer another round with the big guy than to do that again. I'm just glad it happened upon reentry rather than initial exit." He and a random woman would be two smears on concrete if he had lost control like that on the building.
Carefully, he unfurled and curled his fingers. It hurt like hell, but it didn't feel like he was tearing his tendons to shreds anymore, and he let out a relieved sigh.
"Okay... I am taking it nice and slow on the way home." He took his own weight again, getting back to his feet slow and shaky, still holding his swollen and pained arm to his chest.
If he was being honest, he would rather walk home than swing, but the relative closeness of Hell's Kitchen was enough inspiration to get home *quickly*.
"My place is close by... you are spending the night, right?"
He cocked his head, attempting to roll out the tension in his neck.
"Because I think I need a shower and the chance to casually work in a few more of those 'love' bombs being tossed around."
His smile was thin and tired as he felt around for his mask, staying notably close to Peter even as he began to move around again.
"Oh...also... you and I are training. Like really training, together." He had a certain gym to show the spider.
-
Despite his attempt at levity, the well-meaning spider cringed, gritting his teeth together as his partner let out the most pained yelp - something so out of the ordinary for him Peter knew he had to be hurting more than he was letting on.
But he saw the familiar signs of darkness encroaching on him even before it happened. It was the way his knees wobbled, his shoulders slackened and head teetered ever so slightly; the very same way his body had at the conclusion of their first evening together. Which honestly felt like ages ago now, but it had only been the previous month.
"Matty?" he worriedly started, seeing if maybe he could keep him awake, but the other vigilante was already swaying forwards, crumbling underneath the weight of his agonizing injury.
The strong superhero's arms were around him in an instant, scooping him up around his muscular sides and pulling him towards his tight, sturdy body to lean against, his face resting on his shoulder, his boots just barely touching the ground.
"Alright, maybe I would have it another way: You less hurt,'' he softly mumbled, planting a tender kiss to the sweat-laced fringes of his fiery russet hair.
As he waited for him to come to, he gingerly stroked his hair, counting down the time in his head, determined that if he didn't stir within the next few, he'd carry him home.
But unlike the first time their super personas met, he was soon stirring awake once more.
"Welcome back," Peter hummed, gently putting him back down on solid ground but didn't dare loosen his secure hold around him until he was ready to stand on his own again.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he was reminded just how close Matt had gotten tonight. Just one wrong move here or there, and it would have been all over. But he knew he couldn't let himself linger on those unpleasant thoughts right now. Because Matt was safe, he was alive, and he needed his focus right now.
So as his boyfriend gradually raised himself on to wobbly feet, Peter loosened his grip around him, letting him go, but his eyes carefully trailed after him, watching for any signs he would give again.
As he prepared to get a move on from their little hideaway, Peter slid his own mask back over his face.
But even with his face shrouded, there was no mistaking the smile that rose to his lips at the promise of more I-love-yous.
"I wouldn't dream of spending the night anywhere else," he grinned, fully intending to celebrate the rest of their Valentine's Day.
"But uhm when you say training.. We're not talking crossfit, right?" gaped the nerdy scientist who had never had any interests in sports or the gym. Before getting bit by the radioactive spider, gifting him with his super abilities, the closest thing he did to physical activity was riding his skateboard around New York. Since then, most of his training consisted of self-taught practices and lots of trials and many more errors.
When Matt felt ready enough to go, he shot one of his webs with a flick of his wrist and a thwip.
Traveling across the rooftops, their movements were a little less spontaneous, not as carefree as they had been before the rough treatment the evening had dealt them.
Although Peter was more than certain Matt's iron grit and determination would get him home, all along the way, Peter stuck by his side just in case, watching, prepared to catch him if he slipped.
But they made it to the familiar rooftop entrance of his Hell's Kitchen apartment in very little time at all.
-
"... Peter, you basically do crossfit every time you put on the mask. But uh- no... I meant more like...fighting and tactical coordination. We'll do some sparring. We could both use it." Later... for now, Matt had to focus on getting home, a task less easy given he still clutched one arm to his side, unwilling to further damage the sore shoulder.
Matt didn't want to let on, however, and tried to keep his pace up.
He was thankful they weren't that terribly far from home. It took all his focus to keep a path ahead of him, the rest of the signals petered out.
By the time his boots hit the rooftop he was breathing heavier than normal, nearly stumbling into the wall by the door, where he pressed his back as he caught his breath.
"Yup. Mhm. Piece....of cake." He laid his head back against the wall for a moment before reaching up to tug off his mask, stumbling almost drunkenly down the steps and collapsing back onto his couch as soon as it was in falling range.
He let out a soft, tired groan before he rolled onto his back, boots hanging over the end of the couch, fully suited, but still he put an arm out to Pete, encouraging him to join the devil even if it was only for a sweaty exhausted moment.
"Soooo... Russians are buying up properties and hiring ninjas and cowboys to keep us away from them..."
Sounded ridiculous when he said it like that, and he couldn't help a light-hearted chuckle.
"Well... I say that. Montana said I didn't know anything when I proposed the russians or Yakuza...so maybe someone has hired them?"
His smile melted, and a little frustrated huff left him.
"But we still have no idea why, no matter how you cut it, and...I fear tonight was supposed to keep us busy. Draw our attention away from... something else."
He sighed softly and pulled the Spider in when he was close enough.
"But our only lead is...investigating the properties?..."
He hummed slightly and got a sort of distant look to his face before he added.
"Maybe... I could get to Montana in custody. If we could figure out who hired him..."
Matt fell quiet, his head full of thoughts and his body tense and sore.
Even though he was the one to initiate the hold he was also the first to sit up, planting a kiss to Peter's cheek before he moved to unlace his boots, then stood to try and get the armor over his head without screaming in pain. He managed with only a few shuddered gasps, his now bare chest showing the breadth of the purple splotches that bled down from the shoulder.
Matt went to the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, wrapping it in a towel and holding it to his chest while he found painkillers.
"How's your throat, Pete...he had you for a long time there I... it really scared me." Matt admitted, his eyes focused on the ground between them.
-
"Yeah, sure. If the cake was made of rocks," Peter sighed, tugging his mask off to reveal his sweaty face and bruised neck, which had considerably swollen as time progressed. His throat throbbed with each pounding heartbeat, but he had hardly paid it any mind, his concern having been centered around getting his injured boyfriend home in with all his limbs intact. But now that they made it to the safety of the Hell's Kitchen apartment, the soreness was beginning to fully hit him.
As Matt stumbled through the rooftop door and into his darkly lit stairwell, his breath labored and his steps uneasy, a worried Peter Parker followed after him.
Swinging his legs over the top banister, the acrobat jumped down, landing light on his feet in an almost cat-like manner.
At Matt's insistence, he immediately crossed the spacious room over to him. Tossing his mask on to the table, he slid his gloved hand into his open palm, gently lowering himself down onto the sofa and onto his side, making himself as small as possible so as to not put too much of his weight against Matt in his exhausted condition.
As he listened to him theorize on this evening's events, his free hand ran soothing strokes across his trim belly. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he mulled over the troubling information, and when the other vigilante fell quiet, he spoke up, his voice croaking with every couple of words.
"If not Montana, then maybe the Ox guy or Fancy Pants might be the type to blab if they're put under enough pressure. I don't know. One of them's gotta slip up some useful information. But in the meantime, we're not left completely stranded for leads." Peter swallowed loudly, taking a brief pause as his sore throat stung, becoming further irritated the more he spoke.
"We still have the addresses of the other properties to look into. And the company tied to the Russian operation. Maybe there's a clue there, somewhere."
Matt's lips meeting his cheek was soothing to his inflamed skin. It coaxed a soft sigh out of him, and his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as he shifted over to let him quit the sofa.
Drawing his knees up, Peter hugged them to his chest as his worried hazels tracked his partner undressing, exhaling painful grunts as his strained muscles shifted from underneath the tight material of his suit.
Even in the low lighting, the dark bruising that ravaged down the length of his alabaster arm was stark and eye-catching. Peter felt a pang in his chest at the sight of it, his heart loudly thundered in his ears.
Damn today had really kicked their asses. Matt was right. They did need to train.
Peter wanted to train if it meant slimming the chances of anything like this happening to his loved one again.
Plucking his gloves off, the bug boy tossed them onto the small round table along with his mask. At the inquiry, he couldn't help but lightly sweep his fingertips over the sensitive skin of his throat. Stretching himself out, he leaned back against the sofa and tipped himself back to stare at Matt as he maneuvered around the kitchen upside down.
"Uhm, I mean, I am feeling it, but I'll live. In two days it'll be like it never happened," he reassured, the corners of his lips slanting upwards into a slight smirk, "It'll take a lot more than that to get me to finally shut up."
But the soft admittance Matt had tacked on at the end had tugged on the hero's tender heart. Kicking his legs over, Peter somersaulted off the back of the sofa and onto his feet.
Closing the distance between them, he wrapped a hand around the future lawyer's good arm and stepped into his intimate space until they were a breath apart.
"Honestly, it's barely been a factor since you went off that ledge," he confessed solemnly. "Like nothing else has mattered since that point. It's just been you in my head, all the time. Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt. Making sure you're alive, that you're okay, getting you home. I haven't really thought about myself."
Leaning up on his toes, Peter planted a sweet, chaste kiss to Matt's before stepping back a little to regard him.
"I love you, and you'll always be my number one priority."
Sweeping his eyes over the ice pack that rested over the shoulder, he added, "You other hand, might be on the mend for a little bit longer."
-
Matt hated hearing every word Peter confessed to him.
Well... no. Not every word.
Love. It struck him like a warm rush.
But beyond that, he felt a sense of guilt and shame. It wasn't that he didn't understand Peter's fear. Indeed, he understood it too well, but their mutual failure on this front was troublesome. Always worrying about one another left them vulnerable to distraction, easy to manipulate.
He shut his eyes when Peter's lips pressed to his cheek, and he offered a small, timid smile.
"... Peter." he sighed softly, forlorn and heavy.
"Peter, I love you too. I really do. And you are my first priority too - I just..."
He took a breath in before he dropped the ice pack, moving back into Peter to nuzzle into the side of his messy brown hair and instead he pressed the towel wrapped ice to Peter's neck as he spoke.
"We can't function like that. You have to trust me. And I have to trust you. If we are always worried about one another, we aren't worried enough about ourselves. The best way to keep me safe is to keep you safe, so I don't have to worry about it... and I recognize..." he hesitated in continuing, pressing a thoughtful lingering peck to the side of the head he hovered at, entirely unbothered by the sweat.
"We will be able to do that better after we train together. We will have a better understanding of how to work with one another rather than next to one another. But I don't want you to think..." he took a breath and nuzzled down, pressing a kiss to Peter's cheek and letting the ice pack fall away as he ran a gentle ghost of a finger down the kaleidoscope of bruises
"It's not on you. I recognize I haven't..." he petered out, seeming to be tiptoeing up to something he didn't want to admit.
"It's me. It's mostly me. I haven't been the...smartest. Tactically. In the past, I hadn't really cared if I put myself at risk because I didn't need to... do anything but complete the mission. But we can't live like that. You can't live like that. I won't stay alive if I act like that and...I have a reason to care if I make it to the end of the night. I want to be able to hold you like this every night, especially after a rough go... and I want to be able to do it for a long time..." he pressed another kiss gently to his cheek.
"I will be better. We will get better at working as a team, but you do have to trust me. It takes a good bit to keep me down, too."
He pulled back finally, having more whispered and sighed his words into the other hero, and he slid the pill bottles across the counter to him.
Pouring them both large glasses of water, setting one in front of Peter, he leaned forwards against the counter, putting all his weight on his good arm as he drank a few gulps.
-
As the cool ice pack was laid against the raw, irritated skin of Peter's willowy neck, the brisk moisture that seeped through the towel's soft material was such a blissful relief, his hazel eyes nearly stuttered shut at the contact.
"Ugh," he sighed, tipping his chin up to allow for further exposure while Matt leaned in with whispered truths that needed being spoken aloud.
The hand that was wrapped around the boxer's tough bicep slipped down to clutch at his waist, pulling him in closer as he spoke.
Because everything Matt was saying was utterly and completely logical.
His sound analysis on the current state of their partnership was reasonable and accurate, and it forced the spider to stop and reflect on how he'd been handling their collaboration thus far. And he had to admit, worrying was not exactly the most efficient way to go about it, as much as his concern for the other hero came from a genuine place in his heart. Matt was right. If they didn't focus on what they were doing, it was going to leave room for mistakes, and mistakes in their line of work could be deadly.
Risings up on his toes, he leaned back into the warm salty nuzzle, gently rubbing the side of their faces together and as the ice pack was lifted from his skin, replaced by featherlight strokes of fingertips, Peter's breath caught in his throat and he exhaled softly.
He didn't say anything at first as Matt handed out the ibuprofen and water. Instead, he laid his palms down on the cool counter and leaned against it, regarding the other injured man in front of him with a solemn gleam in his hazel eyes, which appeared more like sweet molasses in the apartment's low light.
"You're right, Matt. We've been doing an amazing job so far because we're both great at what we do and we get each other on a level, we both know what needs to be done, but as tonight indicated, we do have some wrinkles that need to be ironed out. But -" He closed his eyes and winced as an aching pain constricted around his throat again. Pausing, he took a moment to roll the offered pills into the palm of his hand and knocked them back, chasing them down with a large gulp of water. Licking the moisture off his lips, he set the glass down and shook his head. "But, I disagree.. I don't think it's mostly on you. I have as much of a part to play in this partnership as you do, and I haven't been completely fair with you either." Biting his lip, Peter's gaze fell to the floor to stare down at his booted feet, his tousled chestnut fringe falling into his eyes. "It's not that I don't trust you or that I don't think you're capable when I worry. It's more of personal baggage on me, but still, that's not fair to you. Cause I know how amazing and skilled and totally badass you are," he added in a soft intonation of awe and pure regard and respect for the horned hero as he tipped his chin up to stare at his handsome, strong silhouette.
"I mean, gosh, I'll never forget coming up into that warehouse the first night and realizing one person had taken down all those kidnappers by themselves. So I know it takes more than a couple of low-rate goons to best the Devil of Hell's Kitchen."
A ghost of a smile lit up his face.
"I've been working on my own for what seems like forever. There's a lot of things I need to let go of or change. But I'm ready to put it in the work. I want to make us better, to train with you. So that this" he leaned his hips against the counter and stretched his arm forwards to touch Matt's chest then his before returning to Matt's once more where it remained,"can be my life forever."
-
As Peter made his own confession of guilt, Matt cocked his head, his quiet, studious look only broken by a soft smile and bashful sort of glance away at the compliments that followed. As Peter's hand found his chest, his smile settled into something gentle and adoring.
Having taken his medicine, Matt moved back into the spider, returning both the towel wrapped ice to his throat and his warm nuzzle to the side of his head.
"I'm not...unaware of how particularly upsetting me going over that ledge was for you, Peter. I said I never wanted to play pretend with you, and I mean that, I know..." About Gwen, he didn't say it, but it was implied. He had read a few reports after Peter had mentioned her. Curious if only because he had recalled the event when it had been in the news the first time.
"...and I want you to know if something had happened tonight, If something were to happen out there generally, in the masks, it would never be your fault, Peter Parker. never. I know the risk, I assume in this mask. And you are the best hero I know of, but you can't take the weight of others' choices."
He slid the ice from Peter's throat to gently press it to where he knew there to be a lump at the back of his head, pressing a gentle kiss in tandem to the mess of brown locks.
"I love you, Peter. And we will be better. We will be smoother. We will be a team, a real one, I promise. We have to be just as sure in each other as we are in ourselves, and I am so sure about you and more sure about myself with your support."
He pulled his head back a bit but kept the ice pressed to the back of Peter's head, their bodies close, legs interlocked, his smile grew into something teasing and full of love.
"Besides, the shoulder, tonight? That was a fluke. Give me a week with the new toy and to fix this arm up, and I will be right as rain. You won't have to worry about it happening again. I just...caught a bad angle and wasn't practiced enough. But I will. And it won't be something you even need to worry about. A waste of your brilliant brain space, which you will need because once I am good with this thing? I will give you a run for your money up there, Webslinger."
He leaned in to unite their lips, but only for the softest, sweetest lingering peck, not bothering to really pull away as he whispered next;
"Come on. We can think about Russians and Cowboys later." He dropped the ice pack so he could take Peter's hand in his, running his thumb gingerly across his knuckles before bringing them up to press a gentle kiss to the angry red marks where the wire had cut through his suit.
"Let's get cleaned up... I have decided I hate the taste of your blood. If only because I despise how well you pretend you don't hurt."
He had let that slip, taste, entirely by accident. He didn't normally refer to that sense on purpose. People found it intrusive to have a taste.
He brushed past the other man, keeping their fingers bound to pull him toward the bedroom. One arm still kept hugged to his side he was forced to let go once they made it to the bathroom. Matt moved to turn on the shower, letting the water warm, and the steam began to rise. He unbuckled the straps of his belt and holsters, and the club and sheath fell heavily to the floor.
They didn't spend long under the water, but Matt was almost oddly doting. He was always attentive and affectionate, but it was laid on heavy tonight. He didn't let Peter out of arm's reach. He kept pressing soft kisses just above the bruising on Peter's neck, the skin right behind his ear. After they had rinsed the night away Matt had sat Peter, still wrapped in his towel, on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of him, he dressed the wounds on his wrists and hands, neat and not too tight so he would be comfortable while he slept.
Then he moved to get Peter something to wear, making a mental note to go ahead and clear Peter some space in his dresser and closet for his own things soon, since they seemed to spend most of their shared nights at Matt's, and though Matt didn't really want to get ahead of himself he had the suspicion this would not be a decreasing phenomenon.
"If you had a concussion, I imagine you would have shown signs by now... but just to be sure...will you go check and make sure your pupils aren't blown out for me? Because... Spider healing or not, I can't handle a coma..." Was that a myth? Maybe. But Matt had grown up with a bunch of nuns who made a big deal of any fight he'd gotten into as a kid.
-
Peter closed his eyes against the comforting weight of the boxer's warm, soft skin nuzzled against the side of his temple. As the cool ice pack returned to the deep twilight discoloration around his neck, his lips parted, and a breathy groan of sweet relief escaped him despite his best efforts to keep quiet.
Sighing, he swayed forward as Matt's low timbre rumbled into his ear about the night's events and what it meant for them moving forward.
He noted the omission of Gwen's name, and guilt and sadness returned to twist his stomach into knots - a feeling not helped by the following image of possibly losing Matt one day.
But through his sensitive emotions, the reasonable lawyer's words still rang true:
You can't take the weight of others' choices,
Opening his eyes, Peter's light hazels misted, and he nodded his head slowly.
Because even though he felt an unwavering responsibility to save and help others, he understood he couldn't continue to be burdened by their actions, as much as he desperately wished he could've done something about the results they yielded.
As the icy moisture of the towel slid to the goose egg at the back of his head, his breath hitched once more.
Taking to Matt's message of hope and love, Peter instinctively stepped closer, the fingers glued over his partner's heart spread until his whole hand stuck to him while his other curled around his good side to nustle him closer, turning them into an affectionate tangle of limbs.
After Matt uttered his last reassuring words and claimed their lips in a sweet, loving sweep that seeped right into his mutate heart, Peter tipped his head up, gazing into Matt's adoring face and soulful large brown eyes, he could spend a lifetime gazing into and it still wouldn't be enough.
He tenderly whispered back, "I love you too, Matt, and if I can count on anything in this crazy, unpredictable world, it's you. Incredible, brilliant, resilient you, who's there to give me a reality check when I need it." Exhaling a light, amused chuckle, he added, "and give me a run for my money..."
His words quietly drifted off as two loving kisses were planted onto the cuts that ran along his wrists; a gesture incredibly romantic within itself but as it was followed up by a declaration so uniquely and sweetly Matthew Murdock, Peter felt his whole body erupt with the love he had for this man. But there was no hint of discomfort or shyness at the rare mention of his sense of taste.
Peter's heart ached as he proceeded to be taken by the hand and led into the bathroom to start the hot water. But before Matt could go any further, Peter twisted him towards him with a ginger tug, his hands rising to cup the smooth edges of his jawline and press his lower back against the sink counter.
"And can I tell you a secret? Why, I think you're so brilliant?" Peter smiled softly, "It's because you are authentically Matt Murdock. So there's no need to hide or suppress aspects of yourself around me. Because nothing about you or the way you see things would ever push me away. "
Closing the space between them, he planted a sweet kiss to his lips before pulling slightly back to brush their noses together.
Stepping away from him, Peter reached a supple arm behind the top of his back. Finding the zip of his sticky spider suit, he pulled it down just enough so he could shimmy his slim shoulders out. Once he got his arms free, he peeled the skin-tight spandex off the rest of his lean body and let it pool at his ankles.
Joining Matt in the shower, Peter was quite pleasantly surprised with his ardent displays of affection, which he all happily returned with a profound tenderness and sincere passion. As the warm water washed over them, dribbling down droplets, that when picked up on dried blood, left long pink trails along the taut expanses of their skin. Peter peppered kisses to Matt's shoulder blades as he ran soapy fingers through his hair. The water and soap burned his cuts, but Matt made for the best distraction from their insistent stinging.
As they got out of the shower and maneuvered over to his bedroom, wrapped in warm, fuzzy towels, Peter found that it was his turn to be nursed for once.
Matt made for a very caring and attentive medic, he thought as he lovingly worked on the slices across his artery.
"Talk about a Bloody Valentine's.." Peter sighed, a small lopsided smile raising the apples of his cheeks as Matt finished bandaging his wrists.
Peter kissed the top of his damp hair in thanks, and as Matt walked over to his closet and inquired on his state of mind, Peter smirked and shook his head, "I've had worse. Trust me, if I had a concussion, you would know because I would be swaying all over the place," then a little more softly, he added,"But I'll check. For you, I will."
Padding back over to the bathroom, Peter turned on the fluorescent lights and wrapped his swathed hands around the edge of the sink. Leaning forward, he checked himself over. He was a downright mess between the bruises and injured hands. His light brown eyes gleamed back at him in the reflection, but they were their usual; notably large and doe-like.
Although the night had not gone exactly as he'd planned, Peter was still determined to make the most of the remainder of the romantic evening.
So as he returned to the bedroom, Peter hummed, "Nope, no concussion here." Slipping his arms around the Daredevil, he kissed the back of his neck. "It'll take more than a low-rent hulk to take me down. As if I'd let them ruin today of all days."
With Matt trapped in his arms, Peter gently pulled him back onto the silk sheets of his bed, where he landed in his lap. Slipping out from underneath him, the lithe acrobat climbed over him and slowly kissed him until he was eased down onto his back.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Matt Murdock." he whispered softly before their lips plunged together in deep, passionate strokes. They laid there together for a moment like this, just sharing consuming kisses before Peter's lips slowly began to trail from his lips and down the slim curve of his neck.
When he got to his bruised shoulder, he lightly brushed his lips over it before moving down to his chest in slow but sensuous drags.
-
Oh, course, Matthew yielded to Peter's pull, always. He was sure it would always be like this.
In the bathroom, he paused and took in the whole hearted affirmations with a slack jawed sort of astonishment, confused someone could love him so fully and completely.
By the time Peter was tugging him into bed, Matt would have followed the spider over a cliff at his beckon without a beat's hesitation.
He laughed softly at the joke, sure the other hero was right and he was just being overly precautious, he happily leaned into the man's warm affections; hands trailing deceptively strong thighs as he laid back into him. Matthew welcomed Peter just the same as he climbed over the devil, bothering even his bad arm to wrap the spider ever tighter against him. He didn't quite care how, as long as he was intertwined with those long, spindly legs, in his strong willowy arms.
He met the plunges of his lips with firm returns of his own, more sure with every one that Peter was some sort of gift from god.
A sentiment that did not waver as his lips descended on the devil, making his breath catch in his throat.
Matt tried, in a soft breathy way, to convince Peter he was far too hurt to take part in such things, but his dissuasion was dismissed by a few well placed kisses and breathy allays of his fear.
So Matt just made sure to return the favor, a task he was finding he looked forward to more and more each time. He enjoyed the noises Peter made when he was unraveling. He loved the way his breath hitched, and his heart stuttered in his chest.
It was like a symphony only he heard and conducted, and nothing could hold a candle to it.
And when they were both breathless and spent and sweaty again, Matt tugged Peter into his silk sheets and refused to let him go. Well into the next morning- he made a bit of a show of calling out and convinced Peter of the same, it wasn't hard, he told him he wasn't letting go and he wasn't getting dressed so the spider would have to fight him off (and Matt was hurt! Pete wouldn't do that!) All persuasive arguments he offered in a less than lawyerly grumble into Peter's ear.
Slam dunk case.